The Monk: A Romance
Fugitive were discovered. Since that moment I never have heard any more
of him, and ’tis most probable that I never shall.”
(Lorenzo here interrupted his Friend’s narrative.
“How?” said He; “You have never discovered who He was, or even formed a
guess?”
“Pardon me,” replied the Marquis; “When I related this adventure to my
Uncle, the Cardinal-Duke, He told me that He had no doubt of this
singular Man’s being the celebrated Character known universally by the
name of “the wandering Jew.” His not being permitted to pass more than
fourteen days on the same spot, the burning Cross impressed upon his
forehead, the effect which it produced upon the Beholders, and many
other circumstances give this supposition the colour of truth. The
Cardinal is fully persuaded of it; and for my own part I am inclined to
adopt the only solution which offers itself to this riddle. I return to
the narrative from which I have digressed.”)
From this period I recovered my health so rapidly as to astonish my
Physicians. The Bleeding Nun appeared no more, and I was soon able to
set out for Lindenberg. The Baron received me with open arms. I
confided to him the sequel of my adventure; and He was not a little
pleased to find that his Mansion would be no longer troubled with the
Phantom’s quiennial visits. I was sorry to perceive that absence had
not weakened Donna Rodolpha’s imprudent passion. In a private
conversation which I had with her during my short stay at the Castle,
She renewed her attempts to persuade me to return her affection.
Regarding her as the primary cause of all my sufferings, I entertained
for her no other sentiment than disgust. The Skeleton of Beatrice was
found in the place which She had mentioned. This being all that I
sought at Lindenberg, I hastened to quit the Baron’s domains, equally
anxious to perform the obsequies of the murdered Nun, and escape the
importunity of a Woman whom I detested. I departed, followed by Donna
Rodolpha’s menaces that my contempt should not be long unpunished.
I now bent my course towards Spain with all diligence. Lucas with my
Baggage had joined me during my abode at Lindenberg. I arrived in my
native Country without any accident, and immediately proceeded to my
Father’s Castle in Andalusia. The remains of Beatrice were deposited in
the family vault, all due ceremonies performed, and the number of
Masses said which She had required. Nothing now hindered me from
employing all my endeavours to discover the retreat of Agnes. The
Baroness had assured me that her Niece had already taken the veil: This
intelligence I suspected to have been forged by jealousy, and hoped to
find my Mistress still at liberty to accept my hand. I enquired after
her family; I found that before her Daughter could reach Madrid, Donna
Inesilla was no more: You, my dear Lorenzo, were said to be abroad, but
where I could not discover: Your Father was in a distant Province on a
visit to the Duke de Medina, and as to Agnes, no one could or would
inform me what was become of her. Theodore, according to promise, had
returned to Strasbourg, where He found his Grandfather dead, and
Marguerite in possession of his fortune. All her persuasions to remain
with her were fruitless: He quitted her a second time, and followed me
to Madrid. He exerted himself to the utmost in forwarding my search:
But our united endeavours were unattended by success. The retreat which
concealed Agnes remained an impenetrable mystery, and I began to
abandon all hopes of recovering her.
About eight months ago I was returning to my Hotel in a melancholy
humour, having past the evening at the Play-House. The Night was dark,
and I was unaccompanied. Plunged in reflections which were far from
being agreeable, I perceived not that three Men had followed me from
the Theatre; till, on turning into an unfrequented Street, they all
attacked me at the same time with the utmost fury. I sprang back a few
paces, drew my sword, and threw my cloak over my left arm. The
obscurity of the night was in my favour. For the most part the blows of
the Assassins, being aimed at random, failed to touch me. I at length
was fortunate enough to lay one of my Adversaries at my feet; But
before this I had already received so many wounds, and was so warmly
pressed, that my destruction would have been inevitable, had not the
clashing of swords called a Cavalier to my assistance. He ran towards
me with his sword drawn: Several Domestics followed him with torches.
His arrival made the combat equal: Yet would not the Bravoes abandon
their design till the Servants were on the point of joining us. They
then fled away, and we lost them in the obscurity.
The Stranger now addressed himself to me with politeness, and enquired
whether I was wounded. Faint with the loss of blood, I could scarcely
thank him for his seasonable aid, and entreat him to let some of his
Servants convey me to the Hotel de las Cisternas. I no sooner mentioned
the name than He profest himself an acquaintance of my Father’s, and
declared that He would not permit my being transported to such a
distance before my wounds had been examined. He added that his House
was hard by, and begged me to accompany him thither. His manner was so
earnest, that I could not reject his offer, and leaning upon his arm, a
few minutes brought me to the Porch of a magnificent Hotel.
On entering the House, an old grey-headed Domestic came to welcome my
Conductor: He enquired when the Duke, his Master, meant to quit the
Country, and was answered that He would remain there yet some months.
My Deliverer then desired the family Surgeon to be summoned without
delay. His orders were obeyed. I was seated upon a Sopha in a noble
apartment; and my wounds being examined, they were declared to be very
slight. The Surgeon, however, advised me not to expose myself to the
night air; and the Stranger pressed me so earnestly to take a bed in
his House, that I consented to remain where I was for the present.
Being now left alone with my Deliverer, I took the opportunity of
thanking him in more express terms, than I had done hitherto: But He
begged me to be silent upon the subject.
“I esteem myself happy,” said He, “in having had it in my power to
render you this little service; and I shall think myself eternally
obliged to my Daughter for detaining me so late at the Convent of St.
Clare. The high esteem in which I have ever held the Marquis de las
Cisternas, though accident has not permitted our being so intimate as I
could wish, makes me rejoice in the opportunity of making his Son’s
acquaintance. I am certain that my Brother in whose House you now are,
will lament his not being at Madrid to receive you himself: But in the
Duke’s absence I am Master of the family, and may assure you in his
name, that every thing in the Hotel de Medina is perfectly at your
disposal.”
Conceive my surprize, Lorenzo, at discovering in the person of my
Preserver Don Gaston de Medina: It was only to be equalled by my secret
satisfaction at the assurance that Agnes inhabited the Convent of St.
Clare. This latter sensation was not a little weakened, when in answer
to my seemingly indifferent questions He told me that his Daughter had
really taken the veil. I suffered not my grief at this circumstance to
take root in my mind: I flattered myself with the idea that my Uncle’s
credit at the Court of Rome would remove this obstacle, and that
without difficulty I should obtain for my Mistress a dispensation from
her vows. Buoyed up with this hope I calmed the uneasiness of my bosom;
and I redoubled my endeavours to appear grateful for the attention and
pleased with the society of Don Gaston.
A Domestic now entered the room, and informed me that the Bravo whom I
had wounded discovered some signs of life. I desired that He might be
carried to my Father’s Hotel, and that as soon as He recovered his
voice, I would examine him respecting his reasons for attempting my
life. I was answered that He was already able to speak, though with
difficulty: Don Gaston’s curiosity made him press me to interrogate the
Assassin in his presence, but this curiosity I was by no means inclined
to gratify. One reason was, that doubting from whence the blow came, I
was unwilling to place before Don Gaston’s eyes the guilt of a Sister:
Another was, that I feared to be recognized for Alphonso d’Alvarada,
and precautions taken in consequence to keep me from the sight of
Agnes. To avow my passion for his Daughter, and endeavour to make him
enter into my schemes, what I knew of Don Gaston’s character convinced
me would be an imprudent step: and considering it to be essential that
He should know me for no other than the Condé de las Cisternas, I was
determined not to let him hear the Bravo’s confession. I insinuated to
him, that as I suspected a Lady to be concerned in the Business, whose
name might accidentally escape from the Assassin, it was necessary for
me to examine the Man in private. Don Gaston’s delicacy would not
permit his urging the point any longer, and in consequence the Bravo
was conveyed to my Hotel.
The next Morning I took leave of my Host, who was to return to the Duke
on the same day. My wounds had been so trifling that, except being
obliged to wear my arm in a sling for a short time, I felt no
inconvenience from the night’s adventure. The Surgeon who examined the
Bravo’s wound declared it to be mortal: He had just time to confess
that He had been instigated to murder me by the revengeful Donna
Rodolpha, and expired in a few minutes after.
All my thoughts were now bent upon getting to the speech of my lovely
Nun. Theodore set himself to work, and for this time with better
success. He attacked the Gardener of St. Clare so forcibly with bribes
and promises that the Old Man was entirely gained over to my interests;
and it was settled that I should be introduced into the Convent in the
character of his Assistant. The plan was put into execution without
delay. Disguised in a common habit, and a black patch covering one of
my eyes, I was presented to the Lady Prioress, who condescended to
approve of the Gardener’s choice. I immediately entered upon my
employment. Botany having been a favourite study with me, I was by no
means at a loss in my new station. For some days I continued to work in
the Convent Garden without meeting the Object of my disguise: On the
fourth Morning I was more successful. I heard the voice of Agnes, and
was speeding towards the sound, when the sight of the Domina stopped
me. I drew back with caution, and concealed myself behind a thick clump
of Trees.
The Prioress advanced and seated herself with Agnes on a Bench at no
great distance. I heard her in an angry tone blame her Companion’s
continual melancholy: She told her that to weep the loss of any Lover
in her situation was a crime; But that to weep the loss of a faithless
one was folly and absurdity in the extreme. Agnes replied in so low a
voice that I could not distinguish her words, but I perceived that She
used terms of gentleness and submission. The conversation was
interrupted by the arrival of a young Pensioner who informed the Domina
that She was waited for in the Parlour. The old Lady rose, kissed the
cheek of Agnes, and retired. The newcomer remained. Agnes spoke much to
her in praise of somebody whom I could not make out, but her Auditor
seemed highly delighted, and interested by the conversation. The Nun
showed her several letters; the Other perused them with evident
pleasure, obtained permission to copy them, and withdrew for that
purpose to my great satisfaction.
No sooner was She out of sight, than I quitted my concealment. Fearing
to alarm my lovely Mistress, I drew near her gently, intending to
discover myself by degrees. But who for a moment can deceive the eyes